First Date
by Aurora West
Summary: Stephen feels like a kid who just asked his crush to prom and it's silly, because technically, this isn't even their first date.


Written for the Harlequin Hoopla event by heamarvel on tumblr. Day 3's prompt, first date.

* * *

The clock in the library had never seemed so _loud._

Stephen let out a slow breath and tried to ignore the ticking. It wasn't any louder than usual. He was just more _fixated_ on it than usual. "Try fixating on this incantation," he mumbled. Talking to himself could only help at this point. He'd been staring at the same line of Urdu for seven minutes, his eyes fixed on the page, telling himself he'd read them, and then reaching the end of the line and realizing he hadn't internalized a single word.

Seven minutes of that.

It was fair to say his mind wasn't exactly on his work.

He leaned back in his chair and glanced up at the clock, trying to ignore the fact that his hands were trembling more than usual. They were also slightly, just _slightly_, clammy. Pretty disgusting, actually. He wiped them on his pants and then left his palms pressed there, trying to pretend they wouldn't shake the moment he lifted them up again.

It was also fair to say, in addition to the fact that he couldn't concentrate on anything useful, that he was nervous.

With a snort, he pushed his chair back and stood up. If he couldn't concentrate on his studies, and if the clock was going to drive him crazy, then he was just going to have to do…what? Good question.

A minute later, he was downstairs in the foyer, looking around. Maybe he should have done something with the place. He could have dusted. Did he know a spell for that? Did the Moons of Munipoor help with household chores? Or maybe a vase of flowers or something.

God. Flowers? _Should _he have gotten flowers? No. Come on. This was ridiculous. He hadn't just asked his crush to prom, here. He was a fifty-one year old man, the Sorcerer Supreme, and this was…complicated? Actually, it wasn't complicated at all.

He drew in a deep breath. Not complicated, sure. He'd managed to fall in love with Loki Odinson, and he'd done the whole big grand confession, and there probably would've been fireworks or something if it had been a romcom. Definitely some kind of classic, upbeat love song as the credits rolled. Something just a little bit jazzy, but a little bit quirky, too. What was that one Rachel Yamagata song? _Be Be Your Love_? Yeah, that one would work.

Anyway. That had been last week. They hadn't seen each other since then. But in ten minutes, Loki was supposed to arrive at the Sanctum.

He'd probably be late. Actually, Stephen wouldn't be surprised if he didn't show up at all. He hadn't bothered to text to say he was coming. Though he hadn't texted to say he _wasn't _coming, either. It had been hard in the past week not to suspect that he'd gotten himself into something that might end up being the most challenging thing he'd ever done. Not that he wasn't up for it.

Considering the way he'd thought of almost nothing but Loki for the past week, it was pretty clear to him that at the moment, he was up for little else. Good thing there hadn't been any mystical emergencies lately.

Maybe he should have bought flowers. They'd kind of skipped the whole dating thing, but in a way…this was kind of like their first date.

_If _Loki showed up. This was the God of Mischief they were talking about. This wasn't a guy known for his reliability.

Suddenly, there was a loud _thump _from the roof, the thump of a small spaceship setting down. Stephen glanced up, made a motion with his fingers, and suddenly the God of Mischief himself was standing in front of him, looking vaguely irritated at the teleportation.

"I'm quite sure," Loki sniffed, "that I've asked you not to do that."

"Oh, yeah, you definitely have," Stephen said.

The two of them looked at each other. Stephen's heart was beating fast. Yep, just like a dumb kid who'd asked his crush to prom. He couldn't help it. Loki's eyes, sharp and blue, were locked on his, and there was one strand of his hair that had come loose and was falling around his face. Stephen had always made a point of being with beautiful people, but Loki…Loki was something else.

A mirthless smile twitched at Loki's face before disappearing. "What's the matter, Strange?" he asked. "Having second thoughts?"

Stephen held his gaze and said, "No." That was a lot smoother than _never_, which was what he was really thinking.

The look of relief that washed over Loki's face was heartening. He was just as nervous. Which was kind of funny. A god, a prince, an alien, a guy who'd tried to conquer Earth, was just as nervous about their not-a-first-date as he was. "Good," Loki said, and when he smiled this time, it was…softer? Quieter. Happy.

Loki's fingers were fidgeting and Stephen cleared his throat. "I'm glad you're here," he said.

Raising an eyebrow, Loki said, "I was early, even."

"Yeah. That was nice, too."

With an exhale, Loki said, "I don't know what I'm doing. You know that, don't you? But here—" He flicked his fingers and something appeared in his hand. Quickly, he held out it. "I got you flowers. Jane told me it would be the right thing to do."

Stephen looked at them—an explosion of colors and different blooms; he'd never known the names for most of them—and then took the bouquet.

"I thought it might be a bit stupid," Loki said, clearly trying to gauge Stephen's reaction.

With a grin, Stephen said, "It's not stupid, it's—" What the hell was he supposed to say? _It's amazing? You're amazing? I love you?_

Actually, the last one was pretty good.

He took a step forward and put a trembling hand to Loki's face. When his fingers touched Loki's cheek, Loki sighed and his eyes closed for a moment. Then, before he thought too much about it, Stephen leaned forward and kissed him softly, his heart doing flips, his stomach exploding into ridiculous butterflies, and his breath catching. It was all just chemicals, chemicals in the brain, and he knew that, and yet…

As he pulled away, Stephen said, "So we're doing this."

Loki's eyes were still closed. "You told me we were."

"I _told _you? So what about you?"

At this, Loki opened his eyes and put a hand to Stephen's face, slender, cold fingers tracing over his skin, and said, "I have better things to do than fly a spaceship two and a half hours from Norway to New York for someone I don't want to see. Yes, Stephen. Of course we are." His eyebrows drew together and he swallowed. "I still think you're going to realize your mistake, of course."

The cellophane of the flowers crinkled in Stephen's hand. "C'mon, Loki. If we haven't killed each other yet, I don't think we're going to."

Loki flashed a grin at him. "Only because I haven't been trying." There was a bright flicker in his eyes and he leaned forward, kissing Stephen a little harder and more insistently than Stephen had kissed him. "But I'm going to continue not to try, I think."

With a laugh, Stephen said, "You really know how to sweep a guy off his feet, don't you?"

Smiling crookedly, Loki said, "Well yes. Obviously. To be honest though, at the moment I'm waiting for _you _to do so."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes." Loki arched an eyebrow. "This is New _York_. You're going to take me somewhere absurdly expensive for our first date, aren't you? Why else did I come here, otherwise?"

Something in Stephen's chest felt light and he laughed again. If you asked him to, he _could_ articulate why he loved Loki. But most of the time it was just _this_, this sense of rightness, this overwhelming feeling of having waited for something, of having met his match, of finding someone that fit. A constant fizz of excitement and danger that had been there since day one with Loki, which he felt every time their fingers brushed, every time they looked at each other, every time they were in a room together.

"I'll see what I can do," he finally said, smiling. "We might have to eat unfashionably early, though. All the hottest spots are going to be booked. You should give me more notice if you want to be wined and dined."

"Noted," Loki replied, a smile turning up one corner of his lips. "Or you can just come to New Asgard. There's always a table waiting for me at all of Tønsberg's finest establishments."

He was so smug. Stephen loved him for it. "It's a date," he said. "Second date, I guess."

Loki reached out and took one of Stephen's trembling hands. It was impossible not to feel a curl of trepidation about the five jagged, ugly scars, even though Loki had seen them many times, and just as many times treated them as though they were nothing. With a smile, Loki raised Stephen's hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across the back of it. "Getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we, Strange? You haven't even taken me out _once_. Who says there will be a second time?"

The spark of amusement and happiness in his eyes said there would be, for one. Stephen curled his fingers around Loki's. "Odinson, we're _already _way ahead of ourselves. I love you, remember?"

Loki's smile did that thing again. That softening, his sharp edges rearranging themselves into less of a fortress around his heart and more of an opening to it. "I do, actually, he murmured. "Every minute."

Stephen's heart did a somersault and he pulled Loki close, arms around him, and kissed him again. Every minute, huh? Well, at least they were even.

He didn't say it out loud, but he was pretty sure Loki understood.


End file.
